The Girl in the Tower
Part Two: Blind Faith
Chapter 8: The Orb of Arassel
"Come on, Harry! Hurry up!" Ron beckoned from the top of the steps.
Harry stood, smiling up at the enormous front doors, feeling a kind of warm, fuzzy nostalgia. It was the warmth and contentment one must feel coming home after a long prison sentence.
Harry pushed the Dursleys out of his mind. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were a part of the past now. He was on his own and his mind raced with the excitement of it. Some small part of him saddened at the loss of his only living blood relatives, the only real ties he had to his parents, disagreeable as they were. There were none on his father's side that he knew of, and Harry felt alone in the world. That same small part of him was a little scared. He had his friends though, and he had the whole Weasley clan, who he considered his surrogate family, and of course, the grandfatherly Professor Dumbledore. Then there was Sara, who he loved without reserve, who wanted to know if he was planning to make her his wife, and who filled him with hope for the future.
"Harry! We'll end up sitting with the first years!"
Hermione smiled at his wistful expression. "Are you going to make Sara wait for you all night?"
Still smiling, Harry ran to catch up.
Taking seats among the other Gryffindors, Harry looked for Sara. All the teachers were there, even Professor Trelawney, but there was no sign of her apprentice.
Hermione leaned in to whisper. "Where is she?"
Harry shrugged and turned back to the sorting ceremony, struggling to pay attention.
Farther down the table, Dean Thomas turned to Seamus Finnegan. "Why's there a piano in here?"
Seamus looked as bewildered as Dean and shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno.”
Dean sighed. "I guess we'll find out."
Poor Sara, Harry thought, giving the piano a glance just as Dumbledore stood to give the usual announcements.
"In addition, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Adolphus Morgio. Professor Morgio has been hard at work for many years, tracking our darkest adversaries, and has many a disturbing tale I'm sure. He should prove a most able and interesting teacher."
Professor Morgio gave a slight nod, offered a severe and miserable smile, and lowered into his chair, swatting back a tuft of what looked to be rather greasy black hair. His long, pointy nose and sallow skin paled in stark contrast to the rich firelight. His small black eyes, set deep in discolored sockets, darted among the tables until they landed on Harry. When Morgio found Harry looking right at him, he was quick to turn his face, contorted in a permanent scowl, away in obvious discomfort. Harry's eyes narrowed as he studied the man. Long white fingers fidgeted, nervous.
Dumbledore beckoned to the dark recesses behind the head table, drawing Harry's attention away from the new teacher. "I would like to introduce Sara Lemke. She will be Professor Trelawney's apprentice and will assist with Divination classes."
Sara, wearing a beautiful, lustrous deep purple robe, emerged from the shadows behind the head table with visible trepidation and took the empty chair next to Trelawney, smiling at the enthusiastic welcome from the tables. Harry's heart sank as he glanced at the empty space next to him, which he'd saved for her.
Dumbledore had more to say, but waited for silence to fall before he spoke. "Sara will also attend some classes with the seventh year students and, though she has her own private quarters, she will be considered a Gryffindor for scheduling purposes. However, she will not earn points for her house.
“So, since there is nothing else I would like to discuss, I assume we're all hungry?" The old wizard clapped his hands once and held them out to encompass the four long tables. The feast materialized onto golden plates and platters and everyone dug in, the room erupting in conversation.
Harry kept his gaze on Sara, whose eyes roamed the tables, searching for him. When she found him, a wide smile broadened her face. She mouthed the words “After we eat.” Harry nodded his understanding.
Harry was ravenous, almost keeping up with Ron, but the meal seemed to take centuries. Dessert appeared and everyone lingered over puddings, cakes, and pies, spending more time chatting and less time eating. Harry was getting antsy, daydreaming about walking up to the head table but, no matter how he constructed the imagery, it always ended the same, with everyone staring. Sara, it seamed, had also lost patience, for she appeared at Harry's side before the food was cleared and slid into the vacant spot. She hugged him and pecked his cheek.
Harry glanced at Neville and Seamus, who were staring open-mouthed, and a modest grin touched his lips. People were always dazzled by Sara's beauty, liked her warm, easy smile and admired her charm and refined manor. It made Harry proud just to be in her company and the fact that she called herself his girlfriend was like winning the grand prize in the Lottery of Significant Others.
"I can't wait to give you a real kiss," she smiled. "I'd do it now, but we'll get in trouble. Hi guys!" Sara beamed at Ron and Hermione. "How was the train?"
Hermione sighed. "Long."
Ron sighed as well. "Boring. You'd think a wizarding school would have better transportation. Make the train a giant port key. That's what I say."
"Maybe you should bring it up to Professor Dumbledore. It's not a bad idea."
"Everyone could get in and then bam! Here we are." Ron continued shoveling apple pie into his mouth.
Harry smiled at Sara. "He says that every year."
The discussion was interrupted by Seamus, who blew up his drink. Sara pointed a discrete finger at his cup and muttered a few words under her breath.
"Hey!" Seamus brightened. His hair and were face blackened by soot. "It worked!" He sipped the contents and wrinkled his nose. "Tastes a little charred, but it's whiskey a’right!"
Dean held out his hand. "Let me see!" He smelled the liquid in the cup and then took a cautious drink. "Seamus! You did it! And it only took a year!" Dean took a big swig, grimaced, and handed it back. "You'll have to make some more later, but try not to burn it."
Harry leaned close to Sara’s ear, amused. "Why'd you do that? He'll be blowing up his drink at every meal now."
"He lacks confidence, Harry. He needs to believe he can do it."
Harry chuckled. "He needs his own fire brigade. Sara, are you to sit with the teachers all the time?"
"No, just tonight. I hope you'll be saving me a seat again."
"I thought perhaps you'd like to sit with Malfoy off and on."
"I would, but since I'm a Gryffindor, I guess I'll have to sit with you. Pity." She smiled and took his hand under the table. "Will I be seeing you tonight?"
"As soon as I can get away."
"Don't be long."
"I won't linger in the dorms, you can bet on that." Harry's smile warmed as he looked at her. "I can't wait to get away from all these prying eyes." He squeezed her hand under the table. "But tell me, who is this new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Morgio? What have you learned about him? He looks... greasy."
Ron and Hermione leaned in to listen.
"Not much so far. He's been on assignment with the ministry, looking for Voldemort for several years and has only recently returned. He claims never to have found him."
"Sounds boring, chasing after someone, year after year." Ron shook his head. "After a year or two you'd think he'd give up."
Hermione agreed. "I imagine after that long I'd realize it wasn't going to plan."
"He has a bit of a hygiene problem if you ask me," Sara continued in a loud whisper. "And he keeps rodents as pets! I saw him with one on his shoulder down in the dungeons when I was going to see Severus. It's downright creepy if you ask me."
Hermione grimaced.
Ron shifted in his seat, embarrassed.
Harry gave Ron an amused grin, who he knew was remembering Scabbers.
Harry turned a suspicious eye on the new teacher. "Have you talked with him much? What’s he like?"
"He seems nice enough, but I haven’t spoken to him for more than a moment."
Ron narrowed his eyes. "Which teacher would you think he's most likely to be friends with?"
Sara laughed. "That's easy. He and Severus get along famously. In fact, Morgio's quarters are in the dungeons."
Ron, Hermione and Harry groaned, already dreading the start of classes.
Hermione raised her voice in frustration. "I don't see why we can't get one decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"
"They did," Ron added. "But he was a werewolf."
Harry leered at Morgio. "I wonder what sort of menace this one will turn out to be?"
Hermione lowered her voice again. "He'll be leaving at the end of the year, of course."
Ron grinned. "They'll have Lucius Malfoy teaching it next year."
Harry and Hermione laughed.
Sara sighed. "Who knows, he might be an interesting teacher."
Ron kept on grinning. “She’s got a point, you know. One of our best teachers was a convicted Death Eater, a murderer, and a prison escapee. Anything’s possible.”
"We'll see," Harry said, still studying the anxious wizard at the head table, his eyes full of distrust.
* * *
Sara sighed, leaning against the door to her rooms, still reeling from the hurricane that was their first kiss of the semester. "Harry, you're the devil." She opened her eyes to smile at him.
Harry grinned and felt the knot in his stomach untwist a little. "All of a sudden, I don't want to support your decision to wait."
Sara laughed. "Me either! Come on, Harry. Come sit with me."
Sara led him into the bedroom and headed toward the sofa before the fireplace, but Harry veered toward her bed and, holding tight to her hand, tried to drag her there. Laughing and unable to overpower him, she dropped to the floor like a dead weight.
Harry grinned as he looked down at her, shrugged his shoulders and collapsed on top of her, rolling off onto the floor in a fit of amusement. Sara rolled him onto his back, sat on him, and set to tickling until their laughter rang out so that they didn't hear the knocks at the door.
"I think I'm going to be sick!" Harry managed through frantic laughter as her fingers dug into his ribs.
"Then that makes two of us, Potter."
The laughter cut off like someone flipped a switch marked silence. Sara fell sideways onto the floor and Harry sat bolt upright as if an explosion had gone off in the next room.
"Oh, it's just you."
Snape sneered. "Who were you expecting, the Pope of Rome?"
Sara turned her head and choked back giggles.
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you needed, sir?”
"I wish I could say I'd come to toss you off the roof, but unfortunately, that's not the case. Tonight, anyway."
Sara kept giggling behind her hand.
Harry couldn't help but grin. Her laughter was infectious. He was still amused from being tickled and in a wonderful mood that even Snape couldn't muddy.
"I suggest you wipe that stupid grin off your face and get up off the floor."
“I’m quite comfortable, actually. Suggestion noted.”
Sara burst into a violent fit of laughter, making a desperate attempt to apologize to Snape through the midst of it.
"Ten points from Gryffindor."
This time, Sara grinned. "Ten points from Slytherin. You threatened to throw Harry off the roof."
Snape ignored her and kept his intent gaze fixed on Harry. "Get up. Now."
"Fine." Harry climbed to his feet.
Snape swatted Harry's head with a sharp slap! "I said shut-up, you miserable little maggot. I've about had it with-"
Harry was incensed by this sort of demeaning treatment in front of Sara and his temper mounted. A thin book flew off the shelf and smacked Snape in the head before toppling to the floor.
Snape shoved Harry. “Try something like that again and…”
Harry grinned around his anger. The book slapped Snape in the head again, though Harry hadn’t moved nor said a word.
Harry suddenly found himself yanked up by his shirt and traveling backward through the doors to the roof.
No longer laughing and on her feet, Sara threw out her hand and yelled something in Latin.
Harry landed on his back snug in a giant feather pillow, which had materialized out of nowhere. Jumping to his feet, Harry grabbed Sara around the waist and moved her aside as Snape came scowling through the doors after him.
Harry stood his ground, waiting.
Snape came to a stop in front of harry, smiled his secret delight, and slapped harry in the head. Not hard, but the sort of pay attention slaps the Gryffindors had grown accustomed to over the years.
Harry looked anything but accustomed. One of Sara’s terra cotta flowerpots flew off the half-wall and went straight for Snape’s head.
Snape dodged it just in time, tripped over a chaise lounge, and went sprawling. With a quick flick of his wand, two flowerpots went flying at Harry.
harry blasted them in midair, but the shards pelted him and left a few long scratches on his face and arms. Harry grinned. "Get up, Professor. Or are you too old and pathetic to handle Harry Potter?"
"Harry what's WRONG with you?!! Severus! Stop it, BOTH of you!"
Snape rolled onto his knees and stood. "I could best you on my worst day, Potter!"
"Let's see you try." Harry barely noticed Sara yelling at him, at them actually, and Snape didn't seem to hear at all.
Snape grabbed one of Sara's patio chairs and flung it hard at Harry's head. It was meant to distract him but, with a gesture, the chair spun in midair, reversed trajectory, and crashed hard into Snape. He threw up his hands and batted the chair aside, but not before receiving a few fresh wounds which had already begun to swell. A moment later, they were flinging flowerpots at the other’s head, landing most until supply could no longer meet demand. At this point, small tables, chaise lounges and folding chairs became projectiles.
A voice like thunder cracked the air. "STUPEFY!"
Harry and Snape fell flat and lay motionless on the cold stone roof of the tower. Dumbledore stepped off his flying carpet and summoned Sara. "Come, help me separate them."
Relieved, Sara pointed at Harry. "Wingardium Leviosa."
When they were far enough apart and minus their wands, Dumbledore held out his hands. "Enervate."
Harry slung an arm around Snape's shoulders. "All in good sport, sir. I guess we got a little carried away."
"Right," said Snape, smiling and letting a hand come to rest on Harry's shoulder. "I just meant to show Potter some defense procedures. Sorry to wake you, sir. My deepest apologies"
"Sara woke me. That was some show you two were putting on. I might expect an enormous lack of self-control from a teenager, but certainly not from a Hogwarts Professor, Severus. That doesn't mean I'm not equally disappointed in you, Harry. I'm surprised to see such ungentlemanly behavior from either of you, and in front of a young lady!"
"Sir," Harry volunteered, taking a step forward. "I'm sure neither one of us meant to scare Sara. At least I didn't."
"I certainly didn't intend to frighten her and, as you can see, we're both fine."
Sara came to stand beside her uncle, furious. "Fine? Have you bothered to look at yourselves? And justLOOK at my flowerpots! They’re RUINED!"
Harry and Snape looked upon the other and amidst the many broken flowerpots and overturned chairs. There was a moment of silence, and then the two of them shared a surreptitious grin. Dumbledore and Sara shared a confused glance.
"To the infirmary with both of you. Madam Pomfrey will examine your injuries, but I think you’ll be healing your cuts and bruises the old-fashioned way. Severus, I expect you in my office first thing in the morning. Harry, I'll see you after breakfast. You're to relate this little mishap to no one." He gave Harry a stern glance. "Now go, and if you decide to continue these... lessons in the halls, you'll find yourselves sprawled on the front walk."
Harry muttered an apology at the floor.
Snape just nodded his head and lowered his eyes.
* * *
It was quiet in the castle at dawn and Harry found he rather enjoyed roaming the halls while everyone slept. He wasn't exactly roaming, only going from Sara's tower to his own and it wasn't that far, but he liked it just the same. He no longer tried to be sneaky as he had last year, didn't even bother with his cloak. He took his time, like he had all the business in the world being up and about in his pajamas and barefoot.
Expecting to be greeted by the sound of four boys snoring, Harry was surprised at the silence that met him as the slid into the room. It was odd, he thought. If he couldn't see their sleeping forms behind the curtains, he'd have thought the place was deserted.
He’d crossed more than half the room when he noticed the lid of his trunk was open, his belongings scattered around it. Some of his books lay open, thrown to the floor in disregard. The new forest green jumper Ron's mum had knitted him was sticking out from under Seamus' bed as if it had been kicked in frustration. Clothes had been unfolded and shaken, then thrown to the side. His Pocket Sneak-o-scope, the one Ron had sent him from Egypt, lay smashed on the floor in afterthought. Fury rose in him at the sight of this. Incensed him, actually. A gift from a far-away and exotic place! A birthday gift!
A sense of dread settled over him, veering toward terrified anxiety. Harry’s breath caught uneasy in his throat and his stomach tightened as he slammed the lid of the trunk, and then nearly tore it off its hinges opening it back up.
The air rushed from his lungs and Harry collapsed with relief. The second chamber of his trunk, created in his Privet Drive bedroom, was undisturbed. Sara's birthday gift, wrapped in colorful paper, remained unharmed. Serpentines and confetti still drifted and curled around cakes with flickering candles. Even the bright, shiny bow was unrumpled. Harry removed the heavy box, placed it on the floor, and set to rummaging around in the bottom of his trunk. Again, he began to get nervous, but then his fingers brushed against velvet. He grasped the tiny box and pulled it out, opening it, needing to see with his own eyes that it was still there.
Snapping the velvet box shut and slipping it in his pocket, Harry went to Ron's bed, then Seamus’, Neville's, and Dean’s. Finally, he stood amid the room, feeling helpless and frightened, glancing from bed to bed until his eyes landed on the desk. He hurried over and composed a note with a shaky hand.
Professor Dumbledore,
I know it's early and you have a meeting with Snape this morning, but you need to come to my room right away. I think you should look at Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. They are alive, but are unnaturally quiet, and they won't wake up. Someone has rifled through my belongings, though nothing seems to be missing.
Harry
Hedwig, half-asleep and hooting in protest, sensed Harry's anxiety and flew off with the letter at once. Harry tried again to rouse his roommates. He went from bed to bed, shaking them, slapping their faces, yelling as loud as he dared, even trying to sit them up. It was no use. It was an obvious spell, but no matter how he channeled his will into his wand, enervate just wasn't working. Neither was finite. He was beyond worried. They should have snapped awake with either spell breaker. The looks on their faces, well, they were frightened.
An idea gripped Harry and he bolted out of the room, down the stairs, and across the common room where he stepped onto a large book and levitated himself up yet another flight of stairs and into the girls’ dormitory. For this he could be heavily punished, even expelled since they were all in bed, but he felt sure Dumbledore would understand his need.
Hermione was slow to open her eyes. She mumbled something about being tired, and so Harry shook her again. Understanding took hold of her. She was alert in an instant and throwing back the covers. Harry held out a robe and she followed him, without a word, back to the boys' dorms. She needn't ask questions. She knew by the look on his face that something was wrong with Ron. Whatever it was, it was important enough for Harry to come into a room full of girls at dawn and pull her from her bed. Fear touched the back of her throat and she pushed past Harry, who was practically running already.
The dark had lifted with the silver half-light of dawn, but Hermione flicked her wand at the candles anyway, filling the shadows with warm gold. She leaned over Ron in his bed, her wand beside the pillow, gripped by a nervous hand.
Harry set to shaking Neville again. Neville's brow was furrowed and his whimper was too soft to be heard. The misery on his face was unsettling. Harry looked to Hermione, desperate.
"How long have they been like this?"
"I've only been here about ten minutes."
"Enervate!"
"That won't work."
"Finite!"
"Neither will that."
"Let's both try."
Harry stepped to Ron's other side and directed his wand at his friend's chest.
Hermione did the same. "Ready?"
Harry nodded.
"Enervate!"
Nothing happened. Harry indicated they try again.
"Finite!" they said in unison and leaned back to see if it worked. Ron slept as he had before. A pained look was about him and Harry felt even more helpless.
Hermione was becoming a bit frazzled, racking her brain for even one shred of information that might wake the boys, some snippet of a lecture, a fact read in a book, or old folklore. Her countenance displayed her frustration, telling Harry she was coming up empty.
When she spoke, it was with an unsteady voice. "This is Dark Magic. Get Dumbledore."
Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. "No need Miss Granger. Dark Magic you say?"
Hermione sidestepped to the head of the bed to give the headmaster access to Ron's sleeping form. Snape fell in beside him.
"Harry and I tried to wake him together. Nothing works."
Dumbledore considered Ron as he slept. "I've never seen a spell like this. He appears to be having a terrible nightmare. Just look at the boy."
"I don't think it's a spell. I think it's a potion."
“So do I, Miss Granger.”
At the mention of a potion, Snape, who had been surveying the other beds, pushed Harry out of the way and leaned over Ron. "The other boys are having nightmares as well. Dark circles around the eyes. Pronounced pallor. Body temperatures are significantly lowered." He laid a hand on Ron's brow. "Weasley here is cold, too. You said both of you tried to wake him? Simultaneously?" He glanced at Hermione, who nodded, looking grave. "It's The Draught of Living Death, but the nightmares are troubling. Not normal at all."
Harry spoke before he could stop himself. "Isn't that illegal?" Of course, he knew the answer to the question.
Hermione tossed off a bit of knowledge, just out of habit. "People were being buried alive all the time."
"All Dark Magic is illegal, Potter. A future Auror should know these things."
Dumbledore sighed. "I’ll summon Madam Pomfrey."
Dumbledore’s eyes had turned serious and unreadable. The ever-present sparkle was gone. Harry had seen the look before and it could mean any number of things, none of them good. At the very least, Harry thought, the headmaster was worried.
Snape was irritated and raised his voice in the quiet room. “This is what happens when potions are brewed incorrectly! Too much wormwood and not enough asphodel. We can keep them alive by administering small doses of asphodel every few hours. Fortunately, there is an antidote, but it will take at least a day to brew."
Hermione gasped. "Tomorrow!"
Snape lowered his voice again. "If we're lucky. You see, as simple as a wormwood infusion is, its counter requires many ingredients, a few of which I do not have. I'll need to make a trip to Diagon Alley. Let’s hope they have everything on-hand."
Harry’s hope plummeted. "This won't wear off?"
"A standard draught would last two days. Wormwood poisoning is stronger and far more complicated. It could be tomorrow, maybe a week, maybe more. Also, we have to consider that, with the scale of the nightmares they seem to be experiencing, they could be mad by then, or irrevocably changed."
Harry and Hermione shared a nervous glance.
"In that case, you're excused from our meeting until this current situation has been handled, Severus. I will arrange for someone to teach your classes."
“I’ll leave at once, sir.” Snape bowed his head at the old wizard before turning on his heel.
"Harry," Dumbledore beckoned, taking a seat on Harry's bed. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Of course."
"Miss Granger?"
"Yes sir?"
Harry was dismayed when she addressed Dumbledore with her back to him, her voice choked and shaking with her attempts at control, her left hand was intent on straightening the curtains, and her right discretely wiped her eyes.
"Mr. Weasley is in good hands. No need to worry so, my dear. Believe me when I say Severus Snape is infinitely knowledgeable on potions and will take good care of your friends."
Hermione nodded and left the room on hurried feet. Harry's heart sank and he fought the urge to run after her. He turned and Dumbledore was waiting for him. Harry took a deep breath and withdrew the velvet box from his pocket.
* * *
The unpleasant, haggard new teacher smiled at the tall, impeccable boy whose platinum hair was warm silver in the torchlight. They stood together in the dungeons, having met in the hall. "Snape tells me you're an exceptional student."
Draco smiled. "I'm glad I've earned his good opinion."
"You know, I could use an assistant, just for a little...uh... experiment I have going."
Malfoy gave the older man his usual cold expression. "I'd be happy to help, Professor."
"You'd...uh...it would have to be in the strictest confidence."
Draco's eyes lit up at the thought of clandestine experiments and a little of the frost melted from his smile. "All things worth doing have to be kept in the strictest confidence, sir."
"What I need will be next to impossible to get. You could be expelled, depending on how you go about it."
Malfoy's smile widened. "I think something that risky puts me in a position to make one demand."
"I wouldn't peg you for a quick pay-off. You've too much integrity for that. You want me to owe you a favor."
"I like you, Morgio. You think like a Malfoy. My father would appreciate your insight."
"I met Lucius once. He is also a man of great integrity."
Draco coughed to cover an escaping laugh. "Yeah. Something like that. Now what do you need from me?"
"Oh yes, the matter at hand." Morgio wrung his long, bony fingers. "I need a vial of blood from Harry Potter."
"Why do you need that?"
"Why should it matter? I understand he's no friend of yours."
"It matters because I'm not doing it unless you tell me."
Morgio sighed. "Very well then. Come to my office."
* * *
"Very impressive, Harry." Dumbledore closed the box and handed it back, capturing Harry's hand and holding it, the box suspended between their palms. "The fact that you have such intensions pleases me more than you could know."
Harry smiled as his hand dropped to his side, shoving the box back into his pocket. "I just wanted to have it, I guess. I don't know when I'll give it to her."
"Does she know?"
"No."
"Does anyone?"
"Just the Dursleys. Ron doesn't even know."
"Good. And Harry, it would be best to wait, at least until you are done with classes."
"I doubt it would be the right time before then, anyway."
"Were you planning a long engagement? Or will the two of you be running off together do you think?"
Harry smiled. "At least a year or two. We're still young, sir."
"That you are. I heard Severus say you were planning to become an Auror. I'd forgotten you had such ambitions."
"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I'll be getting a job as soon as possible, but I still need to continue my training. The ministry offers Auror classes. I can do that and work, too."
"Harry Potter, of all wizards, should not be planning his future around the ministry's schedule of classes! You would make an excellent Auror, but is it really what you want?"
"You've said it yourself, sir. It's in my nature to go looking for trouble. I was thinking of dragging Ron along, too."
"I think the world has something else to offer Mr. Weasley. Ron is an extraordinary chess player. It shows he has clarity of thought and a good mind for strategy. I was planning to recommend him for the Wizard Defense League."
"I didn't know there was a Wizard Defense League!"
"Who do you think does all the minister’s planning?" Dumbledore grinned and Harry felt ignorant. "He's seen too much excitement by your side, been up close too many times. Ron could never be behind-the-scenes now, any more than Miss Granger could. I think it's a side effect of being a friend of yours."
"Ron is courageous." Harry regarded Ron, asleep in his bed, and thought; this is what it means to be my friend. "He could be anything."
"I agree. The level of commitment he has shown in being your friend has made him a stronger person and a better wizard then he likely would have been, had he never met you. Harry, the sacrifices we make reward us in their own time." Dumbledore raised his eyes, understanding the look of guilt on Harry's face. "After all, did living with your aunt and uncle teach you nothing?"
"It taught me that there are people in the world who will lie to me. Who will despise me for what I am with no regard for the person I am. I know how it feels to be unloved and alone. To not belong."
"Yet here you are. Kind, compassionate, humble. In possession all the best human qualities. You, Harry, who always does what is right, no matter what it costs you. You take nothing for granted. You're honest and full of integrity." Dumbledore sighed. "I struggled with my decision to place you with the Dursleys before I realized I had no decision to make. As hard as it was to put you outside the world to which you belong, depriving you of blood relations was hardly the right thing to do."
Harry was incredulous. "How did you know I wouldn't become angry, broken and degenerate?"
"I didn't. Evidently, we got lucky. Harry, no truly good thing is easy. Imagine if you'd grown up with our kind? People flocking around you, putting you on a pedestal every day of your life. Had you lived that life, we'd have two Draco Malfoys at Hogwarts."
Harry lowered his eyes, knowing the headmaster was right. He'd hated living with the Dursleys, but he hated fame even more. Harry cracked a smile. "Two Malfoys? Sara would pull her hair out."
"She certainly does not have a high opinion of Mr. Malfoy."
"She loathes him. She literally spit in his face, yet he persists."
"Did you buy the ring to spite him?" The twinkle was back in the old wizard's eyes.
"No. It's just an added bonus that I rather like."
"Do you think this might be an attempt to sabotage your plans?"
"Like I said, my best friend doesn't even know. How could it be?"
"You think they were after something else."
"I'm not sure. It's a birthday gift for Sara. I really don't know much about it." Harry gathered up the package without being asked and removed the wrapping with his wand so it could be rewrapped later. He set the globe on his night table. "It was really expensive. I guess anyone who was able to turn up here is a wizard and a wizard would have little use for this." He indicated his pocket.
Dumbledore looked up from the crystal ball with serious eyes. "Whatever you paid, it was a bargain if this is what I think it is. Of course, I couldn't know for sure until it's been examined. These markings, they aren't familiar, but then I never was an expert on such things."
"What do you think it is?"
"A very powerful object. Meant for one person and one person alone. I wonder how it happened to find its way to her through you?"
"I saw it in Diagon Alley. We were shopping for dress robes."
"Sara brought you there?"
"Yes, but I think she was drawn more to the window displays. She never even glanced at this. It jumped out at me and I knew it was perfect for her. It was too expensive, so I left without it."
"But you went back because it would not leave your mind?"
"Yeah, something like that."
At that point, Hermione rushed into the room and came to an abrupt halt. "I'm so sorry, Professor! I thought you'd gone. I was just coming to check on Ron. See if he'd been moved yet. Is that what I think it is?" Hermione did not wait to be invited over. "I can't believe it." She ran a finger over the largest of the symbols, the one Harry had thought looked familiar.
"Can you read it, my dear? Romanian, I do believe."
"I recognize this one. It's on the cover of Sara's spell book. She told us it was the old Gypsy symbol for Elemental. Look here. Four smaller shapes bound together to make one. Earth, wind, fire, water. This is the Orb of Arassel."
"Your cleverness and knowledge never cease to surprise me, Miss Granger."
"I've been doing research on Elementals all summer, trying to find a way to help Sara. I found only one mention of the orb in a very old and obscure book called Diviners and Their Devices. I found it in Ron's house of all places. They didn't even know they had it!" She rolled her eyes as if to say how ridiculous! "It said that this has been lost for centuries and was believed to have been destroyed. It was last seen in the sixteen hundreds, in the possession of a gypsy named Lanva who had the powers. She and the orb disappeared and were never seen again."
"Ron's family didn't remember owning this book?"
"No."
"That also is interesting." Dumbledore stroked his beard in consideration.
"Perhaps the orb wanted to be found?" Harry ventured. "And someone wanted to make sure we found out what it was?"
"Possible. Very possible. However, someone knows you have it. I'll have to take this for a time, Harry. It will be safe with me."
"But Sara's birthday is in two days!"
"I want to run some tests on it before it goes to Sara. You shall have it back in time, I expect. I sense no menace from it, but better safe than sorry." Dumbledore placed the Orb of Arassel back in its box and tucked it under his arm as he stood. "Harry, this belongs to her already. I have no right to keep it from her."
Harry nodded, terrified that, come Saturday, he would have no gift for Sara.
"Miss Granger?"
"Yes Professor?"
"Would you be willing to continue your research?"
"Of course!" Hermione's face lit up like a Hogwarts Christmas tree.
"I will arrange for you to have full access to the restricted section and you will be excused from classes today."
"I'll send an owl if I find anything, sir."
"Good. We all have something to do, then."
"What about me?" Harry asked, feeling useless.
"Oh yes, Harry. I forgot about you. You have a class to teach."
"What? ME?"
"They're underclassmen, Harry. The rest of the staff is occupied, so who else am I to ask? You happen to be standing in front of me at the moment of need. You’re capable of doing the job for one day, so to you it shall fall. You'll find Severus' lesson books in his office."
Harry was too astonished to argue as Dumbledore turned his back to the room and left with Hermione in tow. How could he, Harry Potter, possibly teach a class?
Taking out his wand, he returned everything to his trunk and tried several spells on the Sneak-o-scope, which was beyond repair, finally dusting the pieces into a box. Scowling, he dumped it in the trash.
Did he have to wear his school robes? Sara only had to wear hers if she was attending one of her classes. As an apprentice, she could dress as she liked. Deciding it probably didn't matter, he found a pair of black slacks from Harvey Nichols, Italian shoes of fine, soft leather, a white oxford, one of his new ties, and an expensive, green, v-neck jumper Sara loved for him to wear. He thought it made him look like he went shopping with Draco Malfoy. She said it made him look sharp, not to mention oozing class and impeccable taste. Then of course, there was handsome and his favorite, dangerously green-eyed.
For his birthday this year, Hermione had sent him a silver comb charmed to neaten his hair. It was a charm she had devised just for him, and it was inscribed along the spine.
Sleek and shine, to look divine,
thy teeth will turn to tufts so fine.
Unruly locks, such fuss and bother,
depart the hair of Harry Potter.
He used it now, his hair silkening and falling into place. Glancing in the mirror at the beds behind him, Harry wished he could wake Ron and tell him he was teaching a class. Ron would want to know. Hell, he'd be even more excited than Harry himself was. Ron would also want to know that he'd gotten into a silly flowerpot-tossing fight with Snape on the roof and that it had been broken up by the headmaster himself. Now that was news.
Turning away from the reflected image of himself with a long cut along his forehead, no doubt from a flowerpot, Harry crossed the room and sat next to Ron's sleeping form. "Hey Ron." He studied his friend's face for any sign of recognition. "I'm going to teach Snape's classes today. He's gone off to get some ingredients for your antidote. You'll be just fine."
"He will, dear." Madam Pomfrey moved stretchers into the room with her wand, "But he can't hear a thing you're saying."
"I know." Harry sighed and got up. "I guess it didn't matter."
"Sometimes it doesn't, Harry."
Harry thought it best to get out of her way, so he laid a warm hand across Ron's cold forehead and tried to smile. "Hang in there," he said and left, grabbing a handsome emerald green robe from the foot of his bed and calling to Hedwig, who perched on his shoulder.
As he emerged from the portrait hole, he was taken off-guard by Professor McGonagall, rushing toward him, her face piqued with worry. All at once, she stopped as if she had forgotten where it was she was going. The smile that warmed her sharp features was full of affection. "Look at you, Potter. You're all grown up! I can't believe I hadn't noticed it yesterday. Last spring you left a child and now you've changed in just a few weeks. I must say, you do clean up well."
Harry was blushing all the way to his toes. "Th-Thank you, Professor."
"Has there been any change with the boys?"
"Madam Pomfrey is moving them to the hospital wing now."
"I should go and help her. Harry, you will make a fine teacher today. And a well dressed one at that! That color suits you."
Harry lost all confidence and he looked to her with nervous eyes.
She patted his shoulder, the one that wasn't taken up by Hedwig. "If you need any help, send your owl."
"Thank you, Professor."
She gave him one last, encouraging smile before disappearing behind the portrait.
Harry took a deep breath and made for the dungeons.
* * *
Hermione kept her eyes on what she was doing so she wouldn't have to lie to the faces of her fellow Gryffindors, who peppered her with questions about the five boys who were so obviously missing from the table.
"It's some sort of sleeping potion. I don't know what they intended it to be, but it's landed them all in the infirmary." She piled buttered toast with raspberry preserves into a large linen napkin. "They'll be fine, of course, but Snape had to go to Diagon Alley to get something to reverse it, so Harry's teaching his class."
"HARRY POTTER?? Is teaching Snape's Potions class??" asked a wide-eyed Lavender Brown, who Hermione noticed was wearing too much make-up and had the top two buttons of her blouse undone, the crimson and gold striped tie loosened. Her robe wasn't fastened and flared out to either side, hanging loose on her shoulders as she reclined against the back of her chair. Next to her sat Parvati Patil, who was dressed similarly, but with even more horrible make-up. The cloud of perfume around them was enough to choke a Flobberworm.
Hermione had the full attention of about twenty of her housemates and more heads turned as the news made its way down the table, a ripple from a skipped stone.
"Harry just happened to be standing there when the need arose. All he has to do is teach a bunch of second and third years how to make a few simple potions."
"Snape is gonna have a bloody cow!" laughed Liam Seever, who was a chaser on Harry's team and a sixth year.
"I know," Hermione grinned, folding the napkin around her breakfast and lifting a big glass of spiced pumpkin juice. Good Luck, Harry, she thought and made her way back toward the library.
"I've got to see this!" Lavender grinned the moment Hermione turned away and two chairs scrape the floor.
Hermione smiled to herself. Harry, she thought, the Hoochie Patrol is on its way.
The library was a ghost town. Literally. Nearly Headless Nick sat at a far table, leaning over a book, his head now and then tipping off. The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw sat across the table, perusing a large tome. They were the only souls present with the exception of Madam Pince, who was before her in an instant, holding out a skeleton key on a long chain.
"You're to wear this at all times. On the outside only when you're in the library. At night, you're to lock it in this box." She produced a small gold cube from the folds of her robes, along with the words to open and lock the box on a small scrap of paper.
Hermione tucked them into her bag and slipped the chain around her neck. "Thank you."
"You should be proud, young lady. The headmaster must have implicit trust in you. Full access to the restricted section is a rare privilege and hasn't been extended to any student in more than fifty years. Mark my words; there is knowledge in those books that is pure poison to the mind. Take care with what you read, Miss Granger. I mean that."
Hermione smiled. "Of course." She had no intensions of studying up on evil curses.
The old Librarian gave her a mixed smile before retreating to her office.
Hermione found the most isolated table to drop her bag on. With her notebook open and a quill at the ready, Hermione pulled out Diviners and Their Devices, laying it aside. Her bag she moved to the floor, propped against a table leg, but still within easy reach. Her eyes moved from the locked area across the room to the key around her neck; a beautiful, sculpted copy cut in bright yellow gold. Light played in its brilliance as it lay on her open palm. The thing she had most coveted since she'd first walked through the doors as an eleven-year-old girl. Knowledge. Unlimited access to it.
* * *
The Girl in the Tower by SpookyMulder
Chapter Notes: This version has been edited to comply with Mugglenet policies and contains a scene featuring Snape/Harry that greatly varies from the original. However, it does not affect the whole of the story. Also, Seamus produces whiskey in this version in an attempt to skirt movie canon. This change will effect all subsequent chapters of this story and the sequel. (Just in case you've read the story elsewhere and are wondering what's up with that.)